


The Taste of Smoke and Ash

by RomancebyFaye



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, Hannibal is Not a Cannibal, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Past Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Romance, hannibal's POV, mentions of child's death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:44:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3503864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomancebyFaye/pseuds/RomancebyFaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man stood still for a few more moments, continuing to clutch the folders to his chest. After several seconds, he seemed to relax a bit. Slowly, as he had done with Alana, Will’s eyes climbed from Hannibal’s shoes all the way to his face.</p>
<p>When the unexpected smokey blue eyes finally met his own above the dark rim of the glasses, Hannibal had to stop himself from sucking in a breath. He immediately understood the knowing look that Alana had been giving him while he stewed in irritation at the man’s rudeness.</p>
<p>Will was lovely. Rarely was Hannibal so struck by physical beauty, but Will was perfection. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed immediately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

The Taste of Smoke and Ash

* * *

  
  
Hannibal followed Alana into her office. They had just enjoyed lunch at a wonderful little bistro that she had suggested. She was one of the only people who Hannibal would trust in matters of food. Perhaps more than anything else in their long friendship, this spoke to how much faith he had in her. They had scarcely made it to the desk, Alana having only just seated herself and Hannibal still standing when someone burst through her office door without bothering to knock.  
  
Hannibal turned to the intruder, already piqued at the show of rudeness.  
  
It was a terribly shabby man; his slacks were wrinkled as if he hadn’t bothered to press them before pulling them on, he was wearing a long sleeved flannel shirt that - though buttoned up and tucked in - was possibly in worse shape than the wrinkled pants. His arms were laden with folders, more than appeared strictly safe to carry. The fact that he currently had one open and studying it made the pile look dangerously close to being dumped onto the floor.  
  
Hannibal couldn’t see the man’s face because he was practically buried into the opened folder. His stooped position offered a view of the top of his head. The mop of chocolate curls were in as much disarray as the rest of him, and the man was clearly in need of a trip to the barber. The disarray of the curls wasn’t due to the carefully mussed styles that were in fashion; it looked as if the man hadn’t bothered to do as much as brush it all day. His beard showed the same lack of care, untrimmed and overgrown.  
  
Hannibal’s eyebrows rose minutely in a show of distaste.  
  
The disheveled man stepped further into the office, chattering away as he came.  
  
“Alana, I need you to look at these. Something is missing.”  
  
Hannibal remained silent, watching the smaller man approach Alana’s desk without even bothering to look up from the folder that held his attention. Hannibal’s eyes widened fractionally as the unkempt thing teetered the already precarious pile of folders in his arms by jabbing agitatedly at the top one with his index finger. Hannibal wanted to pull the stack out of his arms, if only to ensure he wasn’t covered with them when they escaped the man’s grip, or be forced - by the manners that the other was obviously lacking - to help him pick them up from the office floor.  
  
The intruder continued talking, his voice mirroring his agitated movements. He ranged from speaking rapidly and clearly to muttering to himself in a barely intelligible tone. Still, something about the way the man spoke was unexpected, the enunciation was unusual - he almost over pronounced some words. Perhaps if he were not so obviously rude, Hannibal might enjoy listening to him speak.  
  
“There’s something here that I’m missing. What is it? What is it? I need some help. Maybe you could look at this and see if you can give me some insight? There’s something about the way this girl’s arm is displayed… it’s different from the other man’s leg.” At this, the man reached up and grasped a handful of  his curls and Hannibal was given the reason for their completely mussed appearance.  
  
With a handful of curls, the man began to gently rock up on his toes and then back to his heels. It seemed inevitable to Hannibal that he would definitely be living through one of his earlier fears with the folders - buried alive or forced to clean them from the floor. Or possibly both.  
  
The man continued with his rather graphic train of thought.  
  
“The leg is different that the torso and the head we found, too. It’s a puzzle, but I can’t match up the pieces. Could you look at it with me and see if you see any-”  
  
The man stopped abruptly when he finally realized Hannibal’s presence.  
  
It was an odd thing, as if he suddenly froze in time. As Hannibal watched, the man slowly released the gentle grip on his curls and settled back from rocking on his toes. His head rose up from it’s position of looking at the opened folder enough for Hannibal to take in black rimmed glasses, but not enough for him to look at either Alana or Hannibal’s face.  
  
The man spoke again, but it seemed as if he were reciting something from memory.  
  
“I’m sorry Dr. Bloom, I should have knocked before I entered your office. I apologize.”  
  
Upon the on intonation, Hannibal turned to look at Alana for the first time since the man had burst in upon them. He was slightly surprised to see a look of absolute affection adorning her features as she answered back to the odd tone.  
  
“Will, I’ve told you before, my office is always open to you.” Here Hannibal watched her smile with genuine good humor before she added, “And don’t call me Doctor, you know that.”  
  
At that Alana cut her eyes to Hannibal and her intention was clear. This was not Hannibal’s office; if she wanted to allow this strange man to pop in without knocking, that was her business and Hannibal wasn’t allowed to be upset. Other than the implication that Will was excluded from good manners, her eyes almost seemed to hold something more. There was some other meaning, as if she knew something Hannibal did not. It was almost mischievous.  
  
At this Hannibal turned to regard the disheveled man whom he now knew to be called Will. The weight of Alana’s regard for him told Hannibal that he could not be nearly as inept as his appearance suggested. He swallowed his annoyance on Alana’s behalf and stepped forward to offer his hand in greeting.  
  
To his utter shock, the man shrank back. Will didn’t physically take a step backwards, but he clutched the folders to his chest in a death grip and he almost seemed to shrink in size.  
  
“I don’t like to touch strangers,” Will said. His voice was flat, almost matter of fact. There was no note of shame in the tone.  
  
Well, that was unmistakably and intolerably rude. Hannibal stared at the man with a cold gaze as he dropped his hand back to his side and stepped back. Perhaps if the man would bother to look at him he would see Hannibal’s obvious displeasure.  
  
Instead he kept his voice neutral as he asked, “Not fond of eye contact are you?”  
  
The man managed to look as far at the toes of Hannibal‘s shoes before answering, “Eyes are distracting. See too much. See too little.”  
  
Alana rose from her chair, moving towards Will and gently placing her hand on his shoulder. Hannibal watched as Will followed the curve of her arm up to her face. Despite his words, he locked eyes with her for a brief moment and Hannibal watched as some flash of trust was passed between them.  
  
Will quickly ducked his head back down as Alana brought him closer to where Hannibal had stepped back.  
  
“Will, this is Doctor Hannibal Lecter, my mentor and an esteemed colleague. He is also one of my most trusted friends.”  
  
Alana’s voice was earnest, and Hannibal felt pride that he was counted as such. He looked in her eyes as she continued, that same look of affection and _knowing_ as she spoke.  
  
“Hannibal, this is Will Graham, a brilliant and gifted profiler and professor, also an esteemed colleague of mine. And also one of my most dear friends.”  
  
She kept her eyes on Hannibal’s as she spoke, and when she had finished, she gave a very slight raise of her brows before she removed her hand from Will’s shoulder and stepped back. Though she kept her attention on Hannibal’s face, Hannibal returned his focus back to Will.  
  
The man stood still for a few more moments, continuing to clutch the folders to his chest. After several seconds, he seemed to relax a bit. Slowly, as he had done with Alana, Will’s eyes climbed from Hannibal’s shoes all the way to his face.  
  
When the unexpected smokey blue eyes finally met his own above the dark rim of his glasses, Hannibal had to stop himself from sucking in a breath. He immediately understood the knowing look that Alana had been giving him while he stewed in irritation at the man’s rudeness.  
  
Will was lovely. Rarely was Hannibal so struck by physical beauty, but Will was perfection. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed immediately.  
  
Now that he was not so slumped in on himself it was obvious Will was not much shorter than Hannibal, though his carriage suggested otherwise. He had a strong, perfectly sculpted jaw, and quite shapely lips.  
  
As if Will’s merely acknowledging him changed Hannibal’s perception, Will became a different creature entirely. Suddenly, instead of looking disheveled, Will looked pleasantly rumpled, as if he had just rolled out of bed and dressed in a hurry after an unexpected romp of lovemaking. Instead of rude, his actions were suddenly endearing, as it was obvious that the man’s mind did not work according to the average mould.  
  
But the thing that struck Hannibal to the core were those eyes. A muted shade of blue that reminded him of thunderstorms in summer, Hannibal felt as if they were peering into his very soul. He knew that this was a rare gift, being allowed to look into those eyes and his own being looked into in turn. Will’s eyes were wide and clear, his face surprisingly open and Hannibal couldn’t help but feel chagrin at his own hasty assessment of this angelic creature.  
  
Slowly, the smaller man raised his hand between them. Hannibal grasped it, surprised to find it cool and dry as he gently shook hands with him. Will continued to look him in the eye as he said, “It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Lecter.”  
  
He continued to grasp Will’s hand, possibly longer than was entirely polite as he answered with full sincerity, “Please, call me Hannibal.”  
  
At his words, Will seemed to rouse and he abruptly snatched his hand back. Hannibal watched as the man’s face flushed pink and his mouth opened ever so slightly before he jerked his eyes away.  
  
He clutched the folders back to his chest like a shield.  
  
Will let out a hoarse “No,” before fleeing the room without any explanation.  
  
If Hannibal were a man prone to romantic clichés or notions, he would have said that Will had dragged his heart out with him.    
Instead, he blinked as the door clicked closed behind Will’s retreating form, and after a moment of utter silence, he looked back to Alana.  
  
She was making no effort to hide her amusement now and Hannibal found himself speechless.  
  
That was exceedingly rare.  
  
He shook his head, trying to shake off the feeling of wonder as he unbuttoned his jacket and sat across from Alana, who had apparently returned to her seat during his and Will’s  exchange. She leaned forward on the desk, propping her head on her hand as she raised her eyebrows and asked, far too innocently, “So?”  
  
Hannibal knew what she meant. He steepled his fingers together beneath his chin as he sorted through the last few minutes of his life.  
  
Somehow, he knew that the course of it had just altered.  
  
He looked into the eyes of one of his dearest friends and was struck with how he now had another reason to appreciate their friendship. Without her, he had no doubt that Will Graham wouldn’t have spared him another thought.  
  
Alana raised her eyebrows and waited for the answer to her question.  
  
“He is beautiful.” At Alana’s understanding nod, he mused, “He is _very_ beautiful.”  
  
“Yes,” she answered with a smile, “He is.” She arched a single brow and added, “I’ve never seen him maintain eye contact for that long. Most certainly not with a stranger.”  
  
“We aren’t strangers now though, thanks to you.”  
  
Alana chuckled, “You’re welcome. I think I’m going to enjoy watching you taken down a peg or two.”  
  
Her tone was good natured, but Hannibal had a feeling she was also being serious.  
  
“You seem very confident in my intentions.”  
  
“Please, anyone watching your little exchange just then would understand your intentions.” She paused for a beat, “Especially William Graham.  
  
I had actually been wanting to introduce you two. I just wasn’t sure how to go about it without ambushing either of you with the other. Will is unique, as you clearly saw, and you are hardly prone to attempts at matchmaking. I suspect Will would be even less welcoming.”  
  
“I can hardly blame him, myself having been on the end of several ridiculous attempts from people without your good sense,” Hannibal agreed.  
  
Alana dropped her hands onto the desk in front of her, Hannibal mirrored her movement, placing his own hands in his lap. She merely looked at him for a moment, her face thoughtful when she spoke.  
  
“William Graham is one of the most intelligent people I have ever met. He is also one of the strongest and most resilient. Will has been through things in his life that would rival even your own past traumas, and though that is not my story to tell - for either of you - he is fragile in some ways.  
  
If you are truly interested in him, tread carefully Hannibal. A misstep will cost you any chance you may have, should you decide to genuinely pursue him. He does not form bonds lightly, but if you are lucky enough for him to consider you worthy of one of those bonds, you will find yourself blessed by the depth and warmth of his emotions. However, if you break his trust, he will shut you out completely.  
  
Will possesses an ability to see from the perspective of others - it’s what makes him so hesitant to look into others eyes or bring new people into his circle. He can empathize with nearly anyone and he can see things that pass the rest of us by. It makes him capable of deep emotional connections with some and makes him avoid all but the most necessary interaction with others.”  
  
“It almost sounds as if you are trying to discourage me, Alana.”  
  
“Not at all. I think you are probably one of the only people who could appreciate all Will has to offer. I also think Will is one of the few people who could offer you what you need in a relationship.”  
  
“And what is that?”  
  
She smiled, “A challenge. An intellectual equal. Someone who has their own darkness and demons and as such, is in the position to understand your own.”  
  
Alana was one of the only people who knew the story of Hannibal’s past fully. He had shared with her the darkest events of his life, some that still woke him from his sleep with gripping terror from time to time. If she said Will Graham had demons to rival his own, then Hannibal knew the man was indeed strong.  
  
“On top of that,” Alana continued, “he steps into the shoes of serial killers and psychopaths on a regular basis. He once described to me it was like walking a mile in a murderer’s shoes - along with understanding them and their motivations on an emotional level - and then finding that when it was time to take them off, that the laces had turned into a knot that could not be untangled. He said that sometimes he has to struggle for weeks to get the shoes off completely.”  
  
Hannibal stared at her in shock as he realized that Will didn’t just see from the point of a killer, he essentially took on the imprint of one to understand their point of view in order to catch them.  
  
No wonder the man avoided eye contact.  
  
Hannibal spent his days peering into the minds of others in order to try and help his patients. What Alana was saying would be like Hannibal actually becoming one of his patients for a time in order to understand them - and not just one but all of them. He couldn’t imagine having all of those people bouncing around inside his skull, much less having the thoughts of serial killers invade the sanctity of his mind.  
  
“People often make the mistake of believing Will is delicate, unstable. There is even one horrendous ‘journalist’,” here Alana injected rare venom into her tone, “who says he is a psychopath himself.”  
  
“How is she qualified to make such observations?”  
  
Alana shrugged at Hannibal’s question.  
  
“Do they ever need to be? They can always site an anonymous source and then spray whatever poison they choose. Will was particularly distraught when that article came out.”  
  
“Of course he would be. He is in a position to know just how horrendous the actions of a true psychopath could be to those around them.”  
  
“Yes,” Alana agreed, “and he is easily hurt by the perceptions of others as he is unable to avoid them even when he wishes. He tries to shield himself, but when he is under stress or duress he has a hard time blocking them out. He has been particularly stressed lately with the recent killer targeting young men and women. That’s why I was so surprised at the prolonged eye contact he gave you.”  
  
Alana smiled at Hannibal once again, it seemed odd to go from discussing the recent mutilated body parts being scattered across Maryland to discussing romantic issues, but to Hannibal it was no longer a shock. Alana’s position as a psychiatric consultant with the FBI often had less savory thoughts strung into everyday conversation. Besides, Hannibal had seen terrible things of his own and so he was not so easily shocked by such brutality.  
  
As she leaned back in her chair she continued, “To be able to pull Will Graham from the grip of his profiling is an unusual thing. And to make him blush like that…,” here she paused and a look of slight disbelief came over her features. “You know, I have never seen him blush before? Not like that anyway. I‘ve seen him flushed when he was angry or embarrassed, but this was different. Maybe you have a chance after all, Hannibal.”  
  
“I certainly hope so, though according to you I may have some difficulty.”  
  
“Not may. You most certainly will.”  
  
“That is rather ominous.”  
  
“Not ominous. It is the truth. Will is not very used to pursuit, I should know.”  
  
Hannibal raised his eyebrows.  
  
“How do you think I knew you would be attracted to him, Hannibal? Our taste is quite similar if you remember. Unfortunately for me, Will is not interested in women in any sort of romantic way. I count myself extremely lucky to be considered by him as worthy of trust and friendship.”  
  
“Hmm. And I have your permission to pursue? I would not wish to do any damage to our own friendship.”  
  
Alana leaned back in her chair and laughed heartily. For some reason, Hannibal found himself feeling rather put out at her show of mirth.  
  
“Oh, Hannibal. I saw the way you looked at him. Even if I objected - which I do not - I don’t believe heaven nor hell would stand in your way. Besides, that was years ago and I am quite over my rejection. And don’t be so sure that you won’t join me. As I told you, Will is a complicated person. He still surprises me from time to time with his reactions.”  
  
“Then I take it that I have your blessing?”  
  
“You do.” Alana looked down at her watch with a smirk still on her face. “Sorry Hannibal, I need to get to my lecture.”  
  
Hannibal stood, gathering his own coat and buttoning his jacket before opening the door for Alana. She stepped through, pausing at the threshold to turn back and level a look at him.  
  
“Do not push him and do not hurt him. If you do, I won’t forgive you and, more importantly, he won’t either. Possibly neither of us since I’m the one who told him I trust you.”  
  
Hannibal nodded gravely, taking her warning to heart. He did not wish to lose his friendship with Alana anymore than he wanted to cause the interesting creature that was Will Graham distress.  
  
“I swear to you Alana, I will not cause him harm.”  
  
She studied his earnest expression for another moment, and seeming satisfied, turned away with that same gentle smirk from earlier.  
  
“Then I wish you good luck, Dr. Lecter.”  She put extra emphasis on his title, her words and teasing tone echoing Will’s refusal to call him by his first name.  
  
She called over her shoulder as her heels clicked down the hall.  
  
“You’re going to need it.”  



	2. Pursuit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal gives chase, but Will is surprisingly difficult to catch. Time to call in some help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of child abuse/death. It's brief and not overly graphic, but I feel it's worth noting in case that's a trigger for anyone.

The Taste of Smoke and Ash

Chapter Two: Pursuit

* * *

 

Dr. Alana Bloom had been irritatingly correct in her prediction that Will Graham would be difficult to pursue. Hannibal had tried without success to gain the attention of the man through various techniques - all of which had failed.

He had dropped by the man’s office during business hours, only to be nearly shoved out the door while the smaller man spluttered and blushed. After waiting a few days, he had tried to make an appointment with him only to be refused when Will said he was busy with the current case. Hannibal had even gone to the lengths of finding out the last class the man had before the weekend so he could pop into one of his lectures. After finding out the information, he had done just that, sitting quietly in the back while Will taught.

There he learned that Will was indeed an excellent lecturer, encouraging the students to think for themselves and giving them just enough information to help them find the answers. Though Will still didn't make eye contact with any of the students, he was thorough and efficient, challenging them to take a new point of view than what they were used to using.

To Hannibal, the hour was an interesting look into the way the man thought and processed information differently than others. Still, he was demanding and no student would be able to squeak by in his class without true effort and dedication. Hannibal faintly wondered how many lackluster FBI hopefuls had been weeded out by William Graham. It was pleasant to hear him speak with confidence, guiding minds along paths that would lead them to greater potential.

However, when Hannibal had tried to approach Will after the class was dismissed, the man had frozen like he had the first time Hannibal had met him in Alana’s office. For a very brief moment, Hannibal was infused with hope when he was offered another glimpse into those blue eyes he found so captivating. It lasted probably two seconds before Will grabbed his bag and literally ran from the room, leaving Hannibal standing there with his mouth open on a greeting he hadn’t had time to issue.

As he stood there - mouth agape and pride severely wounded - Hannibal knew it was time to ask for help, no matter how much it pained him to admit.

*****

Alana stood in his kitchen, enjoying the beer he had brewed especially with her in mind. He himself enjoyed wine more than beer, but he could appreciate people who knew what they liked and he found no offense when Alana requested it instead. She sipped from it as she chopped vegetables while Hannibal gently floured the cuts of beef before lowering them in the waiting oil to cook.

“Having difficulties are you?” She didn’t try to hide the edge of laughter in her voice when Hannibal had asked her for help. “I told you that you would.”

Hannibal sighed. It was slightly humiliating to have to ask Alana for help like a schoolboy would, but he was at his wits end.

“Yes you did, but I will admit I was unaware as to how difficult it would be to connect with him. Not even mentioning my hope for becoming lovers, I cannot even get him to greet me." He paused, taking a sip of his wine and remembering Will's hasty exit. "Do you know when I went to one of his lectures he actually ran from the room? I am beginning to feel as if I am Alice and he is the White Rabbit.”

Alana goggled at him open mouthed over the lip of her beer. “You ambushed him at his lecture?!”

Hannibal huffed through his nose, extremely displeased that she was finding such enjoyment from his failure. He answered tersely, “Yes. I also tried to meet him in his office and when that failed, I tried to make an appointment with him.”

His admission was met with peals of laughter and he glowered at Alana openly.

“Oh how the mighty have fallen. I told you Hannibal, Will won’t be easy to catch.”

“I am beginning to realize that. Perhaps as my closest friend - and the only mutual acquaintance between us- you could help me.”

Alana took another sip of her beer and grinned at Hannibal’s expression. It was rare for him to show so much emotion.

“I could.”

When she offered nothing further he raised his eyebrows in annoyance and asked, “Will you?”

“Hmm, maybe if you ask me the right way.”

Now she was just being insufferable. Hannibal narrowed his eyes.

“Dearest Alana, my closest friend and confidant, wisest of all you purvey, will you please help the unworthy man that is myself to find a path to true love.”

The words were mostly ruined by his robotic tone, but Alana just laughed at him some more.

“That’s more like it, Hannibal. Now, what do you want to know?”

"What does he like?"

"Hmm," Alana hummed as she took another pull from her glass. "Music. Fishing. Oh! And dogs. He has a whole pack."

Hannibal felt a tug at the corner of his mouth as he imagined the rumpled angel that was Will Graham surrounded by assorted canines. It seemed fitting.

"Dislikes?" Hannibal asked, aware that he could hear something he would not like himself.

"Situations that force him to be overly social - but you knew that. People who lie to him. Bigotry. And pity, or people assuming he can't do something because of the way he is. That's probably the worst one."

Well, Hannibal wasn't any of those things, though he could say that a lot of that list applied to things he hated also.

“How did the two of you become so close?”

“I helped him solve a murder. But be warned, I ended up as a friend, so that might not work out as you hope. Even Will doesn’t seem like the type to discuss eviscerated bodies in bed.”

Hannibal supposed that should be a relief. He certainly wasn't interested in bringing more dead bodies into bed with him, his nightmares provided more than enough.

“All right then. Opposed to me solving the Jigsaw Puzzle Killer’s identity, what other avenues should I try?”

“Since a direct approach doesn’t seem to be working, maybe you should try something more subtle. You could ask for his insight on a paper?”

“That was what I tried to do when I asked for an appointment. I was informed - rather roughly - that he was busy trying to…How did he put it? Ah, yes - ‘catch a deranged serial killer who dismembers young people for fun.’ I think you’ll agree that was an excuse with which I could hardly argue.”

For a moment, Alana sobered. “He _is_ having a hard time right now. Finding the victims cut in pieces is taking a toll.  He can’t grasp the pattern and he’s going deeper into this killer’s mind than he usually does. More than evading you, he may be unable to deal with your interest at the moment.”

Hannibal considered, it was entirely possible Will would avoid him out of necessity rather than distaste. After all, he did not think like everyone else and the added strain of forming a new relationship while he was under the stress of finding a serial killer would not be beneficial.

Alana had finished chopping the pile of vegetable and she brought them to Hannibal. He thought as he tossed them gently in coconut oil.

“Perhaps for the time being, I should relent. I don’t wish to cause him any more stress and I don’t want to distract him either.”

He didn’t like it, but he could wait. He was normally a much more patient man that this, though his quarry rarely eluded him for this long. Even when they played hard to get, Hannibal could usually persuade them with a gift or lavish dinner.

Perhaps that spoke more about Hannibal than his usual choice of partner. They were always someone intellectual, often they were beautiful, but rarely did Hannibal feel a deep emotional connection with someone he took to his bed.

He knew instinctively that giving Will a gift would end spectacularly bad for any hopes he might have with the profiler.

“That might be wise. Once this case is solved - and I have the feeling it will be sooner than later - I think we should all take a trip to the symphony. Will loves classical music, and if I am the one to invite you both, he is much more likely to be go.”

“Really? Thank you, Alana.” Hannibal was pleasantly surprised, not by the fact that Will would enjoy music, but that he would enjoy a live performance accompanied by the inevitable crowds of people such would bring. “Perhaps you could convince him to come over for dinner afterwards? I find my appeal seems to raise the moment I step foot into a kitchen.”

“That’s certainly true,” Alana said. “I can hardly keep my hands off you.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.”

“It suits me just fine.”

Hannibal ignored her as he dropped the vegetables into the waiting pan. He turned the meat carefully as he shook his head.

*****

Just as Alana had predicted, it was less than two weeks later before the Jigsaw Puzzle Killer was caught. It was an extremely disturbing case to begin with, but people were especially shocked that the killer had turned out to be a young woman. A female serial killer is a rare thing, especially one that so brutally mutilates bodies. Her arrest made national headlines.

At the current total, at least nine young men and women had lost their lives to her. Apparently, all the victims had been adopted, though that was known early in the case. The connection was difficult to find because they were all from different agencies and even different social and economical backgrounds.

The break in the case had come from finding out they were all members of a support group for adopted children who wanted to find their birth parents. Even then, they had been involved in it at different times, none of them having actually met each other. They had also not let their adoptive parents know they were searching for their birth parents. Without those connections, the pattern would have been difficult, almost impossible to find.

This had been made even more difficult by the range of ages, anywhere from sixteen to twenty six. Some had been attending college, some high school, and some had even begun families of their own.

Somehow, though the news was unclear as to how, the young woman doing the killing had been found. At twenty nine, she was a long time volunteer for the support group, promising anonymity for the adopted from both their birth parents and their adoptive parents. It seemed that those who refused to meet their birth parents, for reasons she did not approve, had found their way to death by her hands.

Hannibal had no doubt as to who was responsible for breaking the case, and though he should be excited that he could soon make plans with Alana and Will, he found himself in a subdued mood.

Ghosts he hadn’t given much thought recently snuck up on him with the image of all those adopted young people being murdered brutally.

Hannibal stood and poured himself the first of several glasses of whiskey he would be drinking tonight.

He went to bed later than usual, and even the thoughts of storm blue eyes couldn’t fight off the nightmares.

*****

A few days later found him more or less back to sorts.

When Alana called him with the news of the symphony, he was able to respond with what he felt was appropriate enthusiasm.

Apparently he was wrong.

“Hannibal, are you all right?”

That was the thing about truly close friends, sometimes that saw things you wished they did not. There was no sense in lying to her, she knew his past after all.

“I’m all right. I’ve just been having some bad dreams.”

“Oh. Mischa?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Hannibal thought of his most recent dream, instead of having to watch her be beaten to death, he had watched her be disassembled. Broken apart like a puzzle ready to be put back together again.

“No”, he said softly, “I don’t think I do.”

“Okay Hannibal. You know I’m always here if you need me.”

“I do. Thank you, Alana. If they start up again in earnest, I’ll go see Dr. Du Maurier.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

“Now, I believe you were calling with the good news that our dear Will has agreed to the symphony?”

“He certainly did. He didn’t even try to pull out when I mentioned that you would be joining us.”

That was encouraging. At least Hannibal hoped it was.

“And his response to the invitation for dinner?”

“He reluctantly agreed, as long as it wasn’t going to be too elaborate. I promised you could do simple, Hannibal. Don’t make me a liar.”

“I’ll try to hold back.”

“Good. Oh, and by the way,” Alana’s smile could be heard through the phone, “Will doesn’t eat red meat.”

With that, Alana hung up.

It was just as well since Hannibal couldn’t think of a response to that revelation.

*****

Hannibal leaned against his car as he awaited the arrival of Alana and Will. They had decided to meet at Meyerhoff Symphony Hall, since they all would be coming from different directions. He learned from Alana that Will would have the longest drive, as he would be coming from Wolf Trap, Virginia. Hannibal would have liked to pick them up from their homes, but considering the distance, that would have been impractical. Especially since tonight he and Will were here on Alana’s invitation.

He hoped that soon he would not need her to act as intermediate.

A Volvo station wagon pulled into the parking lot and parked several spaces down from Hannibal’s Bentley. The halo of curls had Hannibal straightening from his leaning position to give himself a quick once over.

He had worn a blue three piece suit with a faint plaid pattern, with a pristine white shirt with a textured stripes that crossed in a pattern of tiny squares. His tie was a muted contrasting pattern with splashes of gold, teal, blue, burgundy, and red. The colors were subdued by being set upon the coffee colored background. His pocket square was bright red, a contrasting white edge to it tying in with his white dress shirt. He could see nothing out of place, but even so he was having to resist the urge to fidget.

How unseemly.

He walked towards Will’s car, careful not to hover as he waited for him to exit. He wasn’t disappointed when Will finally emerged.

He wasn’t dressed as formally as Hannibal, but then not many people dressed in three piece suits on a daily basis. Still, Hannibal felt a distinct rush of physical desire as his eyes swept over the shorter man’s form.

He was wearing a deep grey jacket and pants, but instead of a button down and tie to dress the suit up, he had a plain black sweater under the jacket. It wasn’t tailored to fit him as well as it should be, but the dark tones set off Will’s skin and eyes brilliantly. It was neither too casual or too formal. Simple, but elegant. The ensemble wasn’t nearly the quality that Hannibal would love to wrap the man in, but it still made his mouth water.

The unruly hair had been lightly styled with something to define the set of Will’s curls. Hannibal thought it still couldn’t strictly be considered tamed. The strong jaw was covered with several days of stubble, and Hannibal wondered how it would feel against his lips. The black rimmed glasses were in place and Hannibal stood still as Will’s eyes climbed to his chest, stopping at his pocket square.

“Good evening, Dr. Lecter.” Will’s voice was much more calm than the first time they had spoken.

“Please, call me Hannibal.” He watched as the blue eyes skittered away from his pocket square, climbing as high as his double Windsor before they darted completely away.

“The soloists for tonight are supposed to be amazing,” Will offered.

Hannibal realize he still wasn’t to be called by his given name.

“I am looking forward to the performance. It has been a long time since I’ve heard Mozart’s Great Mass.”

“Me, too. Since it‘s missing the Credo, Agnus Dei, and parts of the Sanctus, it seems like it gets passed over for other of his works.”

Hannibal tried to hide his delight at Will’s knowledge of the work. Alana had told him Will could be his intellectual equal, perhaps he was capable of enjoying the other aspects of Hannibal’s life, too. He was struck with a flash of Will dressed in a formal tuxedo for a night at the opera.

He blinked this thought away and formed an answer.

“I agree. It seems unfair as some of the best minds have worked to complete it so that it can be enjoyed in its entirety. Though I wonder what the original composer would say to it being completed without his input.”

“I don’t think he would mind. Though I have heard it performed just as it is written, the missing parts left out. Besides, you can hardly say it would be done without his input. If I can peer through the veil of murderers to see their designs, surely there exists those who can peer through the veil of musical geniuses.”

Will Graham was becoming even more fascinating. Hannibal didn’t know if he should be flattered that he would so openly discuss his ability, or if perhaps Will always spoke like this.

“I can’t imagine the burden of such a thing. It must be exhausting,” Hannibal spoke truthfully.

Upon this declaration Hannibal found himself pinned by those all seeing eyes once more. It surprised him, as if Will was weighing the meaning of the words Hannibal had spoken. He gazed back into the beautiful eyes, hoping he would not be found wanting. After several seconds Will flushed slightly and looked away. Hannibal released a breath he had not realized he was holding.

“Yes,” Will’s voice was soft as he spoke, distant and considering, before his eyes came back to take in Hannibal’s form. “Yes, it is.”

Hannibal had the distinct impression that he had just passed some unseen test. He was trying to think of something to say when Alana pulled up. She joined them, dressed in a stunning emerald green dress, the jewel tone tamed by the conservative cut and black velvet shawl. Hannibal was mercifully rescued from floundering as they exchanged their greetings and made their way to the entrance.

He listened to Alana and Will make small talk they walked, adding his own comments here and there, but mostly staying silent.

This was new for him: the struggle to find something to say, the feeling of awkwardness while under the gaze of another. Hannibal was a man who knew himself and knew others. He had spent untold time cultivating the person that he showed to the world, and even someone as close to him as Alana rarely saw beneath the mask.

When Will looked at him, he felt like his person suit was for naught, as if Will could strip him down to the marrow in his bones if he chose. Hannibal hoped he would.

He wanted to be sliced up by those eyes that saw too much and not enough. He wanted to be broken down to the most true self and still be found worthy. And he wanted to do the same to Will, to see his darkness, to comfort him when nightmares struck just as he would be comforted when his ghosts came to call.

Logically, he knew that he did not know Will, that they were still barely acquaintances, and that all the meaningful information he had was from someone else experience. But something in him called out for the younger man, perhaps recognizing the potential for true connection and understanding. Hannibal was usually a logical creature, but sometimes one had to step out of one's own area of comfort when one found something worth the risk.

At least, that is what he would tell a patient.

He stepped to the door, opening it so the pair could enter ahead of him. They were early enough that they didn’t need to wade through a throng as an usher led them to their seats.

It didn’t escape Hannibal’s notice that Will allowed Alana to enter the row first before turning to offer the next seat to him. Hannibal deferred politely, and after a moment Will relented and took the seat between them.

Mercifully, their seats were closest to the center aisle, so as more people arrived they weren’t forced to stand or be clambered over. Their location was excellent - third row stage left - the perfect angle to see the soloists and the orchestra. It also allowed Hannibal to observe Will.

Even now, his eyes were never still, darting here and there. While Hannibal couldn’t say he looked relaxed, his body language was far more open. He sat with his legs slightly spread, his hands resting on his knees. The hand closest to Hannibal was tapping out a never ending rhythm as Will looked around and chatted quietly with Alana.

He was surprised when Will turned to him.

“So Alana tells me you are quite the chef, Dr.Lecter.”

“Did she? I have been accused of that from time to time.”

Will chuckled, the sound hoarse and low. Somehow, it caught Hannibal off guard, spreading a flush of heat through his chest. He wanted to hear it again.

“You don’t deny your strengths. I like that,” Will said, smiling.

Hannibal smiled back, knowing Will would see it whether he was looking in his face or not.

“I believe that one should not present false humility. Since I have more than enough failings, why should I deny it when someone hits upon a genuine strength?”

Will continued to smile as he said, “Does a man like you have failings, Doctor? You certainly don’t seem like the type to gossip or drink too much.” Hannibal felt pure delight as Will leaned towards him, asking in a conspiratorial tone, “Don’t tell me you are hopelessly addicted to reality television?”

Hannibal chuckled, extremely pleased that Will was engaging him in conversation. And rather flirtatious conversation at that.

“Ah, but that would be telling. I may not believe in false modesty, but that certainly doesn’t mean I’m ready to lay out all my bad qualities. It hardly seems fair of you to ask me to incriminate myself, Mr. Graham.”

Hannibal didn’t miss the scrunch of Will’s face when he called him by his last name. He snorted slightly and said, “No one calls me that. Well, my students call me that but no one else does.”

Hannibal took his chance.

“But my dear Mr. Graham, you have refused the offer to call me by my first name, so in good conscience I cannot call you by your own. It would be terribly rude.”

Hannibal held his breath when Will pulled away slightly, his hand stopping it’s drumming for a moment as Will seemed to be deciding on something. He breathed a sigh of relief when the drumming began again and Will leaned back in, taking the position one uses when imparting a secret.

“I’ll make you a deal, you tell me one of your failings, and I’ll call you by your first name.”

Hannibal leaned down closer, trying to ignore how absolutely delicious Will smelled underneath his overly pungent aftershave.

“Trying to suss out my greatest weakness, hmm?”

“Perhaps I want something to hold over your head.”

“Planning to blackmail me, Mr. Graham? I assure you, if you want something from me, you only need ask.”

This close, Hannibal didn’t miss the subtle shift in scent that was coming from his delectable sparring partner. When Will next spoke, his voice was a tiny bit more hoarse.

“Now you're trying to distract me, Dr. Lecter. Have something to hide?”

Hannibal chuckled and turned his head, his nose barely brushing the curls over Will’s ear.

“All right. A genuine weakness was the deal we struck, correct?” He waited until Will gave a tiny nod, the curls tickling his nose, “I am known to purse my desires with a single-mindedness bordering to obsession. When I catch the scent of my prey, I will use whatever means I have at my disposal to bring it into my reach. And when I have something I deem precious in my care, I guard it with a jealous devotion.”

There was no mistaking the sharp intake of breath from Will or the slight flush creeping up from the collar of his sweater. Hannibal allowed himself a deep breath through his nose, bringing in the scent that was distinctly Will Graham.

This time it was he whose eyes traveled slowly up to look into Will’s. The smoke blue eyes were wide and his lips parted slightly.

“Did you just smell me?” Will asked, his tone incredulous.

Hannibal continued to smile at him, noting that Will had only pulled away enough that he could look into Hannibal’s face.

“I did.”

Will blinked at him and stuttered out, “W-Why? What do I smell like?”

Hannibal raised his eyebrows slightly, completely aware that his behavior over the last few minutes was incredibly unlike his usual self.

He did not care.

Their attention was pulled to the stage as the audience stood to applaud the introduction of the orchestra, choir, soloists, and conductor.

Their little group stood to join in, and while they both were applauding, Hannibal leaned down close enough to let his lips brush the shell of the smaller man’s ear and whispered, “Delicious.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed chapter two! Feel free to leave comments or suggestions!


	3. Performance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’d like to listen to Mozart’s Great Mass:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGCUPyrk4Eg

  
  
The Taste of Smoke and Ash

* * *

  
  
Chapter Three: Performance

  
Hannibal expected for his and Will’s flirtatious exchange to leave the other man agitated. And indeed, Hannibal could still see the flush rising from Will’s collar as they applauded the introductions, but he was soon left questioning the impact of his bold remark. While the orchestra settled and the soloist not immediately performing left the stage, Will shifted in his seat nervously, darting his eyes in Hannibal’s general direction. However, when the first chord of the Kyrie rang out, Will’s awareness of Hannibal disappeared.  
  
Will’s entire demeanor was subtly shifting as the Kyrie went on: the repetitive tapping against his knee was gone, as well as the movement of his ever evading eyes. Instead of the blue orbs darting here and there, they passed over each performer in turn, pausing for several moments before moving to another. As far as Hannibal could tell, there was no pattern to where Will’s eyes would fall next: conductor, choral member, soloist, violinist, cellist, trombonist…even the timpani player was not overlooked.  
  
Hannibal wished he could look through Will‘s eyes, see what he saw. Somehow, the way Will watched each person made Hannibal wonder if for that moment they were the only one Will could hear. He imagined Will’s unique mind unraveling the symphony note by note, deconstructing it like an ancient tapestry. Hannibal could imagine Will plucking out each thread in his mind, studying its shape and form, its relevance to the larger picture but still able to see it as its own individual existence.  
  
Normally, Hannibal would balk at the thought of someone allowing outside distractions to pull from concentrating on the performance of a masterpiece, but he was quickly finding himself far more interested in the man in the seat next to him than the excellent soprano on stage.  Instead of enjoying a wonderful performance with a lovely companion at his side, he found himself enraptured by his companion and the performance was merely the soundtrack.  
  
He considered for a moment that might be slightly rude, but no one had any way of knowing his mind was wandering and therefore there was no chance at him giving anyone offense. Besides, in all truth he believed Will was watching with more than enough rapt attention for them both. He decided to indulge himself in the man seated next to him, though he was careful to be inconspicuous in his attention.  
  
Through each movement Will continued to shift his attention among the performers. As the music went on, his body lost the tense air Hannibal had assumed was - at least to some extent - his permanent bearing. Hannibal knew how soothing music could be to the soul, how a true artist could elevate one beyond the physical realm and into pure emotion. Even so, Hannibal was aware that he kept the outside world at a safe distance, rarely one to show emotion even when truly moved to anger or ecstasy.  
  
Perhaps that was why watching Will transform before his very eyes had him enraptured; the way his hands had fallen loose over his thighs, how his head had pulled back from its downward angle, and how his eyes sought out instead of snapping away in avoidance.  
  
When the mezzo soprano and soprano joined for Domine Deus during Gloria, Will’s eyes finally stopped their traveling and slid fully shut. Will took in a long, deep breath; his chest rising slowly on the intake and falling just as slowly on the exhale. Will remained upright, but as Hannibal watched, it was as if he could see all of the tension physically leave the man’s body. With a fractional shift, Will’s body went from sitting in the chair to resting into it, as if he were suddenly trusting it to hold him up without the slight tension people exhibited if they might have to unexpectedly move. The man became so still, that for a moment Hannibal wondered if he had slipped into sleep.    
  
After observing for another moment Hannibal realized that the enigmatic creature that was William Graham was not asleep, but in a state of absolute relaxation. Will remained that way, melted into his seat and focused only on the music until the first soprano began to sing En Incarnatus Est, during which a small smile appeared upon his lips.  
  
Hannibal was struck with the blinding desire to lean over and kiss him, though such a display - even if it were welcome, and Hannibal was sure it would not be - would be highly inappropriate in the current setting. The shock of considering such a breech of etiquette actually pulled Hannibal’s attention back to the performance as he considered the implications of such a thought.  
  
Hannibal adored music; he often attended symphonies and operas. Many of the galas and fundraisers he was invited to boasted famous singers to bolster attendance and funds for chosen charities. Hannibal moved in the upper ranks of Baltimore society. There he worked weaving his connections and offering the expected philanthropy and social graces that were integral to such associations - and though it was not often - at times Hannibal had occasionally attended these events with lovers who boasted beauty, intelligence, and affluence.  
  
And never had a single one of them had distracted Hannibal from the presence of a great performer.  
  
What was it that made Will different? That made Hannibal want to walk into high society with him on his arm and dare anyone to offer the marvelous man insult? What was it that called out for him to form a connection, to both bolster and earn Will’s trust and confidence, that begged to see and be seen by him?  
  
Hannibal knew some considered him to be an epicurean, and indeed, he did enjoy surrounding himself with fine things. However, just because he was wealthy, that did not mean he had to be gauche. He believed he surrounded himself with both quality and beauty, tempered by good taste that others in his position often seemed to lack. Hannibal had a few trusted friends, enough acquaintances that he never lacked social invitations, his practice was thriving, and he was well respected in his field. He wanted for nothing in either material possessions or, if he chose, stimulating companions for intellectual or physical pursuits. He would consider himself more than content.  
  
And yet, next to him sat a man who was at this moment completely unaware of his presence, but was calling Hannibal’s very contentment into question. A man whose relaxed smile and open air made Hannibal irritated at the music which had rendered him that way.  
  
He wanted to be the refuge in which Will could hide. He wanted to be the reason the man lost the edge he always seemed to be carrying - even as he realized he hardly had enough experience with Will to say ‘always’. He wanted to be the one to peel away the layers of anxiety and agitation that were surely in place as much from the man’s unique mental acuity as for his self preservation.  
  
It was highly uncharacteristic for him to wish to be so important to another person. While he wanted his patients to trust him, he did not wish for them to cast themselves fully into his care. He certainly did not wish to be Will’s therapist, though he would not mind the man confiding in him. Instead, he wanted to be trusted as someone would trust their mate. It was not his professional desire to use his skills of observation and knowledge to guide someone through a crisis only to eventually part ways, it was an intensely personal desire to walk beside Will and help shoulder his burden by taking some of it onto himself.  
  
Was it Will who made him feel this way, or was it simply that the man had somehow tapped into some latent loneliness? The fact that the man was causing him to question his own motivations - of which Hannibal was always assured - would normally make him seek to distance himself, not seek further contact.  
  
Hannibal looked back at the object of his uncharacteristic upheaval. He saw Will oblivious to his plight, still relaxed and basking in the heavenly performance that Hannibal was hardly even hearing. Will was a man who took on the most twisted and malformed psyches, imprinting on them like human silly putty - and he still managed to get out of bed everyday. A man who one of Hannibal’s most trusted friends considered valuable and precious. A man who must look at things that would thrust others into madness, and yet he was currently enthralled at the beauty of a musical masterpiece without a care for anything else.  As Hannibal looked, he realized he already had his answer.  
  
It was Will who genuinely sparked his interest, not some deep seated need for companionship.  
  
Hannibal considered these things through the last movement of the Mass. As the last note was played and the performers stood to bow in turns, he watched Will rise, loose-limbed and smiling, to join in the standing ovation. Instead of immediately moving towards the exits with the crowds, Alana, Will, and Hannibal sat back down, giving the flow a people a chance to thin out. Will retained his air of relaxation as he chatted with Alana about the performance, effusively thanking her for her invitation. Hannibal leaned forward to offer his own thanks and to offer his own comments about how wonderful the performance had been.  
  
Once the rush for the exits was over, the group stood and made their own from their seats. As they climbed the stairs of the wings to the lobby, there were still clusters of people gathered here and there talking. Alana excused herself for a moment, leaving Will and Hannibal as she made her way to the powder room. Her gorgeous gown stood out among the varied degrees of dress exhibited by the remaining symphony goers. The Meyerhoff had no formal dress code and so people were left to wear what they deemed appropriate, though Hannibal wouldn’t agree with some of the attire he had seen tonight being considered such.  
  
“She looks like an emerald slumming it with the gravel.” The younger man’s voice held both amusement and affection.  
  
Hannibal turned to regard Will, who was standing with his hands in his pockets, tracking Alana’s progress across the lobby.  
  
“Indeed,” he agreed. “She has a natural poise and grace that is exceedingly rare.”  
  
“She’s not too hard to look at either.”  
  
Hannibal’s head tilted ever so slightly as he studied Will, wondering if perhaps he had missed something in the nature of Will’s friendship with Alana. He must have remained silent for a beat too long because blue eyes met his for a brief moment before they flicked away and were followed by a nod in the direction they were looking. He chuckled when he saw how much attention their lovely friend was gathering in her trek across the lobby. More than a few heads turned back when she slipped from view around a corner.  
  
To Hannibal’s delight, Will and he shared a knowing look before Will shook his head and they both chuckled.  
  
“You were right about the soloist,” Hannibal said.  
  
Will answered by turning his attention towards him, eyes resting firmly on the knot of his tie.  
  
“Weren’t they amazing? When they sang together I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”  
  
Hannibal found himself answering Will’s grin. It was amazing how different his bearing was from the first time he had seen him. Of course, then Will had been in the middle of looking for clues spread out among body parts, hardly a situation that would promote serenity. But now, fresh from listening to an excellent performance, Will’s movements were languid, his small smile and enjoyment being given quite freely. Hannibal felt privileged, somehow knowing this was a rare gift bestowed on few; the sight of Will Graham, free of nervousness and stress.  
  
He fervently hoped it would become the normal state for Will in his presence. Just as Hannibal was wondering how long he would be able to enjoy Will in his current relaxed state, a voice cut through the hum of chatter.  
  
“Hannibal, I wasn’t aware you attended performances that weren’t operas.”  
  
The superior tone belonged to none other than Dr. Frederick Chilton, a fellow psychiatrist, though Hannibal wouldn’t call him a colleague or friend. More like an unavoidable acquaintance.  
  
He took one last look at Will, trying to burn his present state into his memory before he turned to the approaching man with his mask carefully in place. It wouldn’t do to show his total aggravation at having his and Will’s exchange interrupted.  
  
“Good evening Frederick. I actually enjoy many different forms of entertainment, some of which do not require a tuxedo.”  
  
The man smiled, somehow managing to make even that seem arrogant before he offered Hannibal his hand. As they shook, the man cut his eyes towards Will, taking him in as he asked, “And who might your companion be for the evening? I don’t believe I’ve seen you with him before.”  
  
Hannibal resisted the urge to crush the odious Doctor’s bones in his grip, angered that Will was being spoken about as if he were not standing right there. He released the hand and introduced Will instead.  
  
“Please allow me to present William Graham, a friend of mine. Will, this is-” He was cut off before he could finish his sentence.  
  
Hannibal turned his head slowly as he was rudely interrupted, his face a careful blank so as not to show his anger.  
  
"Not the Will Graham who works for the FBI? I’ve had quite a few discussions about you with others in my profession. You would make quite the subject of study. A unique cocktail of personality disorder and neurosis that makes you a highly skilled profiler."    
  
Hannibal’s rage grew as he watched Will’s loose-limbed relaxation drain away to be replaced with defensive tension right before his eyes.  
  
Well, that certainly hadn’t lasted long.  
  
Hannibal stared at Frederick as he blathered on, completely unaware of the discomfort he was causing, or perhaps he simply did not care. Either way he continued to give Hannibal plenty of reason for his intense dislike of the man.  
  
“From all I’ve heard, I expected you to avoid settings such as this. Most people who exhibit your disorders usually find it hard to participate in normal social situations. I myself work with psychopaths on a daily basis, being the general administrator for the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.” He paused for a moment to thrust his hand towards Will saying, “It’s quite a pleasant surprise to meet you Mr. Graham, I’m Dr. Frederick Chilton.”  
  
Hannibal half expected Will to fold in on himself when presented with such callous and rude behavior, but to his utter delight, Will continued to stand with his hands in his pockets as he stared at the offered hand like it were something extremely offensive. Which Hannibal supposed it was.  
  
Will glared at the hand, making no move to accept it as he answered in a tone that was acidic enough to peel varnish. It did not escape Hannibal’s notice that Will’s unique way of enunciating was more obvious when he spoke in anger. Each word was shaped carefully, his lips seemed to do most of the work in forming sound. The affectation caused his bare teeth to flash as he spoke, perhaps a throwback to the days of more animalistic warnings.  
  
“You’ll excuse me if my personality disorder and neurosis cause me distress with social practices - like shaking hands. I’m sure in your profession you are used to having people disgusted by the thought of touching or being touched. You understand.“  
  
Will continued to glare at the hand until Frederick awkwardly pulled it back.  
  
Not one to take even such obvious hints, the obnoxious man answered, “But of course. How thoughtless of me Mr. Graham. I wonder, have you considered therapy? Though I don’t usually practice outside of my hospital, I would be willing to make an exception in your case.”  
  
“Therapy is an acquired taste I have yet to acquire. And it’s Dr. Graham, if you don’t mind.”  
  
Hannibal had spent his entire life sculpting the form he showed to the world, and it was only by this long practice that he managed to not even blink at this revelation. Dr. Chilton had no such decorum.  
  
“Doctor?” He exclaimed, as if Will had just announced he were and Olympic gymnast. “Really? I had no idea. What is it in?”  
  
During this last picture of terrible etiquette, Will had cut his eyes away from Chilton completely. It practically screamed his irritation to Hannibal who was growing more and more offended on Will’s behalf.  
  
“Would you like those in alphabetical or chronological order?” Will asked, his tone flat and disinterested.  
  
Frederick’s eyes widened as his mouth opened and then closed. A burst of satisfaction settled in Hannibal’s chest at his companion. When Frederick turned to Hannibal with his expression of disbelief still plastered on his face, Hannibal merely looked at him with practiced ambiguity. He  raised his eyebrows slightly as if to say, ‘Didn’t you know?’  
  
Next to them, Will was making it painfully obvious he was done interacting with the ill mannered psychiatrist as he scanned the lobby.  
  
Hannibal received another surprise as Will stepped closer to him and reached out to gently grasp his forearm, speaking with a soft tone completely contradictory to the one he had just used with Chilton he said, “Hannibal, I think Alana is waiting for us.”  
  
Once again Hannibal was extremely grateful for his own nearly unshakeable iron exterior as his stomach did a little flip from the unexpected contact and Will’s very first use of his given name. Granted they had shared a bit of flirtatious conversation - and Will had done nothing to discourage Hannibal’s obvious interest - but Hannibal certainly wasn’t expecting them to progress to such casual touching so soon. Especially when such touching would be anything but casual to Will. To Will - the man who couldn’t even shake hands with strangers - touching with such familiarity would be something only done with someone extremely close to him.  
  
Hannibal hazarded a look towards Will, catching his eyes to try and gauge his intent.  
  
Hannibal could easily see through the mask, having seen Will genuinely pleased and relaxed, he could tell his current expression was terribly artificial. There was a cold fury in the blue depths of his eyes.  
  
Will was angry.  
  
Hannibal understood immediately; Chilton had insulted Will terribly and he was purposely showing him how close he and Hannibal were to spite him. Of course Chilton had no way of knowing this was all a show - and it would certainly chafe at his own sense of superiority seeing Will and Hannibal touching familiarly when he wasn’t even worthy of a handshake. It wouldn’t matter to him that he had acted appallingly and proved he didn‘t deserve such.  
  
Hannibal was more than happy to play along. The fact that this would allow him to touch Will  - and hopefully advance Hannibal’s own hopes for their budding relationship -  was merely another benefit to helping Will with his own unique way of dismissing Chilton.  
  
Hannibal looked down at Will with a soft expression that was entirely genuine. He knew Will would see his intention to perpetuate their illusion. Just as he was certain it would, understanding flickered in Will’s eyes as Will offered him a small smile and dropped his hand from Hannibal’s arm, allowing Hannibal to move closer. He placed his hand on the small of Will’s back, noting the slight tension that accompanied the placement. After a few moments, the tension eased somewhat and Hannibal hoped that one day he would be allowed to do this merely for the benefit to themselves and not for others.  
  
They stayed close together as Hannibal gently began to guide them toward Alana - who was currently talking with someone near the exits - before he turned back to Frederick as if he just remembered he was there.  
  
“Excuse us Frederick, we have further plans for this evening with our friend. Until next time.”  
  
“Certainly. Have a good evening.”  
  
Hannibal offered a little nod of his head, not waiting to see if Chilton did the same before he turned back to continue across the floor to where Alana was excusing herself from her own conversation.  
  
Will stayed close to him as they walked, close enough that anyone looking would assume they shared either a very close friendship or a bed. Hannibal didn’t bother to hide his pleasure at the thought of others perceiving either of those options. Personally, he was quite hoping for both. He was drawn from his pleasant line of thought as Will leaned his head towards him, waiting for Hannibal to lean down a bit and offer his ear.  
  
“I wanted to knock his teeth out.”  
  
Hannibal blinked in amusement at Will‘s tone, completely belying the expression of fake contentment. He chuckled and turned to speak conspiratorially near Will‘s ear, continuing their contrived intimacy for Chilton, who was most likely still looking.  
  
“It would be an improvement, I’m sure.”  
  
Will gave a short huff through his nose as they reached Alana. If she thought anything about his and Will’s newfound closeness, it didn’t show. They stopped a few feet from the doors and Hannibal regretfully dropped his hand from the small of Will’s back, not missing the fact that Will did nothing to increase the distance between them even though it was perfectly safe to do so.  
  
Perhaps he should send Frederick a gift basket.  
  
“You boys ready to go?” Alana asked, a pleased smile on her lips.  
  
“You bet,” Will answered her, tossing a small - and real - smile towards Hannibal.  “I’m ready to try the famous cooking I keep hearing about.”  
  
Hannibal smiled back, “Hungry are we?”  
  
“Yep. Somehow rude people always make me feel that way.”  
  
Hannibal chuckled as he stepped to the door and opened it for his companions. “Then you must be starving.”  
  
Alana looked between them as they made their way to their cars, curiosity on her face.  
  
“What did I miss? Who was rude?” She asked.  
  
Hannibal smiled at her and said, “I believe you have met Dr. Frederick Chilton?”  
  
Alana made a rather undignified sound before she answered, “Unfortunately.”  
  
“Yes,” Hannibal chuckled, “I believe that sums it up perfectly.”


	4. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Alana join Hannibal for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible trigger in this, but I don't want to give it away. To be safe, I'm putting it in the end notes, so clicky clicky if you want to be sure.

The Taste of Smoke and Ash  
  
Chapter Four: Revelations  
  


* * *

  
  
Hannibal cleared the plates, refusing the offered help from both of his guests as he gathered the china to take it to the sink in the kitchen. He could hear Alana and Will talking, the latter forced to tell the full story of the night’s previous encounter with the rude Dr. Chilton.  
  
Dinner had gone extremely well. Hannibal was pleased to see there was nothing left on Will’s plate, the most clear evidence that Will had enjoyed the food. He hated when people left food behind, trying to appear as if they had a delicate appetite or because they were picky eaters. Of course, Hannibal did not mind working around someone’s food if they had a genuine need, such as an allergy or religious beliefs. After all, apparently Will did not eat red meat, though the reason for which Hannibal still did not know, and he had gladly made sure it was free from tonight’s meal.  
  
Hannibal had put a considerable amount of thought into the menu, especially with this being the first meal he had prepared for Will. In truth, he had wanted to provide course after course of the most exquisite and tantalizing fare, to watch Will gasp and his eyes close in pleasure as he ate dishes prepared by Hannibal’s own hands. Instead he had reigned himself in, remembering the request made of him for simple. Still, that didn’t have to mean boring or bland.  
  
True to his word, Hannibal had kept the meal simple, but elegant: slow roasted pork loin with Cumberland sauce made from fresh berries, fresh picked and lightly steamed sting beans with soft gorgonzola and a few sprigs of enokitake mushrooms, and as an edible garnish, a few pieces of glazed apple slices with shards of caramel sprinkled atop the crisp fruit. Will had been delighted by those, and Hannibal made sure to file that away for future ideas. His hands slowed as he rinsed the last of the plates, his mind drifting to imagine sharp teeth crunching through the crispness of delicate slivers of apple, Will’s lips brushing the fingers that fed him with the sticky sweet residue of the warm caramel drizzled over them…  
  
His musings were interrupted by the sound of one of his guests laughing freely where he had left them in the dining room. Shaking himself from his sensual musings, he dried his hands and rejoined them, catching the bottle of wine he had left breathing on the counter as he made he way back to his seat.  
  
“You didn’t!” Alana’s peal of laughter echoed in Hannibal’s dining room.  
  
She cracked a grin at Will, delighted in his rendition of his answer to Chilton’s insult. Hannibal smiled, remembering how Will had cast the rude man’s words back at him with barbs sharp enough to sting his overblown pride.  
  
“I can’t believe it,” Alana continued, “You actually made him call you Doctor! I really wish I had been there to see that.”  
  
Hannibal believed her, as her eyes had taken on a distant look and he could practically see her envisioning it with wicked delight. He didn’t understand why Will insisting that Chilton refer to him with the title would be so unbelievable. Or for that matter, why neither Alana nor Will had told him that such a prefix was available where Will was concerned.  
  
“He deserved it, calling me ‘Mr. Graham’ to put me in my place after he talked about me like a research paper.” Will‘s tone was slightly defensive, his brows drawn together behind his glasses showing he was put out at Alana’s amusement. Hannibal found himself trying to suppress his grin as Will literally scowled into his empty wine glass and said with a gruff tone, “It pissed me off.“    
  
Hannibal refilled all of their glasses and set the bottle down carefully before seeking an answer to his unspoken question.  
  
“Why do you not like to be called Doctor, if I may ask? I gathered from your insinuation to the lovely Dr. Chilton that you have earned the right to be called such more than once.”  
  
Will turned his attention to Hannibal, fixing on him in that unique way that let Hannibal know he was interacting with him directly, even without eye contact.  
  
“Say something had happened tonight during the performance,” here Will gestured vaguely with his hand before adding, “like someone passed out or started having chest pains or something. Someone would stand up and say ‘Is anyone here a Doctor?’ By all rights, I could stand up and say ‘I am!’ Of course, that person would die while I recited off my degrees in Biology, Ecology, and Forensic Entomology. The only way I’d be any use would be if they were already dead - or if they were an insect… Or if they were dead and there was insect activity on their remains.”  
  
Hannibal’s eyebrows raised at the impressive listing and he was unable to hide his appreciation for the mans intellect. In his opinion, Will should demand to be called by his earned status, though he understood the vein of thought Will was delivering. He nodded at Will to continue, indicating that he was indeed following along.  
  
“I don’t like to be called Dr. Graham unless I’m in the position of teaching, or lecturing, or discussing with actual peers in the field or students of those fields. Personally, the term ‘Doctor’ calls to mind someone with the ability to heal. I can’t tell you how many Doctor’s I’ve met over the years who only used it to lord over someone else and make them feel inept or as if they were stupid. Somewhere along the way it became a matter of status instead of knowledge and expertise.”  
  
“I see,” Hannibal said.  
  
“Of course,” Will continued, “In both your and Alana’s case, that title is there not only as evidence of you status as a healer of sorts but as a necessary buffer between you and your patients. In your position, the line between you and those in your care must be clear. Even our favorite Dr. Chilton has the need for such a barrier. However, he used his position to try and place himself above me.” Here Will arched an eyebrow and took a sip of wine before adding, “And he wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it.”  
  
Hannibal smiled, sipping his own wine. He silently wondered if there wasn’t something more. He knew instinctually that in spite of Will’s impressive accomplishments, he didn’t like to call attention to himself. He was certain Will would greatly dislike the kind of attention and questions that invariably came from being a Doctor. Hiding - or at least not volunteering - his accolades would provide him with a sort of barrier from the inevitable tide of notice. However, it would also offer him advantages when Will was feeling threatened in other ways; as evidenced by the unassuming Dr. Graham’s willingness to bring his title to bear when it would offer him protection from boors such as Chilton.  
  
Hannibal realized the man before him had created for himself a clever shield that could be used in either direction.  
  
It was another glimpse into the intriguing creature that was Will Graham.  
  
Hannibal watched quietly as Will and Alana talked and laughed, enjoying the comfortable atmosphere. Will seemed quite content to chat with them both throughout the evening, even coaxing a few laughs from Hannibal himself. His sense of humor was dry and biting, even sarcastic at times.  
  
Hannibal adored it.  
  
Things he would usually frown upon seemed somehow completely acceptable when they fell from Will’s lips. He realized it was because even through it all, Will was genuine. He wasn’t trying to strike out with his rare brand of humor, instead it was another form of self preservation. Even here in the company of both himself and Alana, Will had slipped some of his shields back in place.  
  
Hannibal thought of his own shields. He suspected they were in place for much the same reason as Will’s: a desire to keep people at arm’s length, the need for his own privacy, and a general discomfort around the majority of human beings. His own shields had been painstakingly crafted since very early in his life. They were solid and smooth, fitted together so well that the joints were nearly invisible. He had years of practice offering people an absolutely refined and civilized exterior.  
  
Will’s shields seemed more instinctual, built from the absolute necessity to keep people out of the intimate reaches of his mind. Will’s walls were more organic, rough hewn like stone. Easier to find a hand hold on. Hannibal’s shields were slick and cold like ice, freezing anyone who dared try to breach them. When insulted Hannibal became even more proper, more refined, even more civilized until the person found they could not counter the perfect veneer of his person suit.  
  
Will, on the other hand, seemed to be easier to conquer. Hannibal could see how those intent on breaching Will’s walls would believe they would be easy to climb. He could also see how greatly they would be mistaken. Those who supposed themselves easily on the way to conquering those rough hewn walls would find themselves flung from the ramparts as soon as Will felt threatened.  Just as he had with Chilton, Will would be able to see just where to strike in order to dislodge the intruder with the most efficient and brutal manner.  
  
A small smile formed on Hannibal’s lips as he envisioned their differing castles. One made of ice, cold and impenetrable, kept safe by the virtue of the inhospitable atmosphere freezing those who dared to attempt attack. The other would be made of stone carved from the very land it rested on, seeming easier to conquer, easier to overthrow. The ruler would shock them, revealing his innocent looks and manner to be a disguise for a raging berserker when provoked.  
  
And then Hannibal thought of how Will purposely lowered his defenses to let in things much worse than the venerable Dr. Chilton.  
  
How well would those shields work on something that had already been let inside?  
  
“I have to admit, I was expecting something more…exotic for dinner, considering all that Alana had told me about your culinary skills,” Will said to Hannibal, pulling him from his thoughts.  
  
“Ah. I hope I didn’t disappoint? I was requested for ‘simple’ and I didn’t have any knowledge of your preferences other than the fact that you don’t care for red meat.”  
  
“Disappoint? Hardly. I can’t tell you the last time I ate something as delicious as your so-called simple meal.” Will turned to Alana, “ I’m extremely glad I let you talk me into joining in on dinner.”  
  
She smiled, sipping her wine as she answered, “I told you didn’t I? He’s an amazing chef. And please believe me that tonight’s meal was indeed dialed back from his normal fare. Hearts, kidneys, tongue, brains, sweetbreads; I’ve had it all and more at this table.”  
  
Will snorted, “Sounds like a twisted version of Wizard of Oz. So basically, lots of offal.”  
  
Hannibal noted that Will’s tone did not suggest that of disgust. He ventured a question.  
  
“Would you be averse to such things being served next time you come for dinner? I understand that some people do not enjoy such fare, but I would encourage you to try it if you have not.”  
  
A slight smile tugged at the corner of Will’s lips and Hannibal knew his insinuation for more meals had not been missed.  
  
“I don’t have a problem with any of those. Honestly, I believe the barrier that stands between people eating internal organs has less to do with taste and more to do with a psychological ick factor. It makes people squeamish. Offal is much less common in recent American culture than others and often people are hesitant to try the unfamiliar. Then again, I‘m sure there are those who just don’t like the taste either.” Will’s eyes flickered to Hannibal’s for a brief moment, “Then again, I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem at your table.”  
  
Hannibal smiled warmly at the compliment, noting how Alana was trying to hide her own smile in her glass from the corner of his eye. Her reaction cemented that Will’s remark must be his own form of blatant flirtation.  
  
Snaring the bottle of wine once more, Hannibal topped off all of their glasses, debating on whether he should ask what he was thinking. He phrased  his question carefully, curious to know the answer, but cautious not to offend Will.  
  
“May I inquire if any of those are your reasons for not eating red meat?”  
  
To his surprise Will gave another of those rough chuckles as he swirled the fresh wine in his glass. Hannibal watched as the man’s Adam’s apple bobbed with a gulp of wine. With a lopsided grin, a sardonically arched eyebrow, and a self depreciating tone Will said, “I’d say its most certainly the psychological ick factor.”  
  
He did not elaborate.  
  
There was a beat of silence between the three of them before Alana laughed softly, offering “I should remember that. ‘Ick factor.’ I wonder if I should add that term in my next research paper?”  
  
“I expect royalties then.” Will teased.  
  
Hannibal‘s eyes met Alana‘s, and he nodded slightly, thanking her for ending the odd moment.  
  
“It astounds me that the same person who would refuse to eat a kidney merely for the basis of what it is, would buy what passes for meat from a corporate supermarket, with little to no knowledge of how said meat is processed.”  
  
“Well,” Will said with another wry arch of his eyebrow, “I’m afraid I would be one of those. Though I buy chicken or pork, and also a large amount of fish - though the fish is fresh caught as often as I can spare time to wade into the stream. I can’t hope to compare to your level of skill, but I think I can cook a mean trout now and again.”  
  
“I can attest to that,” Alana broke in, “Extremely delicious. I’ve never had someone cook fish as perfectly as Will.”  
  
Hannibal smiled at her, “I am glad that I have never prepared fish for you, or I might have to be offended.”  
  
“Maybe sometime Will can bring fresh fish and you two can have a friendly competition. Of course, I would be more than happy to be the judge. And on that note, I‘m afraid I need to be going, though it’s early yet. I have an agonizingly early meeting tomorrow.”  
  
Hannibal stood, moving to slide out the chair for Alana. Will mirrored her movements, rising from his own chair as the three walked to the door. Hannibal could sense the uncertainty in the younger man as he hovered, watching as Hannibal helped Alana into her coat. “I wish you did not have to leave so early, but hopefully Will will keep me company for a while longer.” He turned his eyes to Will, making sure not to hide the hopefulness in his voice.  
  
He was wonderfully gratified when Will turned a bit pink and answered, “I’d like that” while staring at his shoes.  
  
Hannibal most assuredly wanted Will to stay so the two of them could spend some time alone. Not that he didn’t enjoy his time with Alana there as well, but from the look she was giving him from the corner of her eye, he suddenly had a doubt about her early morning meeting.  
  
He was going to have to send her a rather large bouquet soon.  
  
The trio made their way outside and Hannibal held Alana’s car door open as he bent to kiss her on the cheek, thanking her for her invitation and receiving a sly look in return as she thanked him for dinner. He was slightly surprised when Will stepped forward to receive and deliver to her his own goodbye in the form of a hug and kiss. Hannibal watched with a slight smile as Will shuffled back and forth on his feet, his nervous rocking reminding him of their first meeting as they watched Alana pull from the driveway. Once she was out of sight, he turned to his companion, his arm out to indicate Will should go up the walkway before him.  
  
“I have an excellent scotch I think you might enjoy in my study.”  
  
A small smirk flitted across the younger mans lips as he quipped “Trying to get me drunk, Dr. Lecter?”  
  
Hannibal raised his eyebrows, “You wound me, Dr. Graham. Do I truly seem so depraved?”  
  
Will didn’t pull away when Hannibal dropped his hand to splay at the center of the smaller mans back as they made their way towards the house. From his position slightly behind Will, he could see his ears had turned a fetching pink as well.  
  
“I’m not sure yet. But I do have to admit, getting me drunk and taking advantage of me seems a bit cliché for you.”  
  
Hannibal chuckled as they crossed the threshold, stepping in front of Will to lead them to the study. He let Will take in the room as he poured and prepared two tumblers of his favorite scotch. He was pleased when Will made his decision to sit on the roomy chesterfield instead of an armchair. Light fractured though the cut crystal of the tumbler as he passed the amber liquid to Will before joining him on the leather couch.  
  
After taking a sip, Will’s eyebrows went up and he said, “Wow. That is some damn good scotch. Nothing like what I drink.”  
  
Hannibal found himself chuckling once again at Will’s unpredictable nature. He was such an alluring creature, shy and yet bold in the same breath.  
  
“I thought you would enjoy it, I am glad to be correct.”  
  
Hannibal sipped from his own glass, watching as Will gently rotated his, apparently contemplating something as he stared into the golden liquid. The room was silent for several moments; Will staring at his drink, but obviously thinking about something else.  Hannibal tried not to watch Will directly, instead slowly enjoying his scotch and endevoring not to worry about what decision Will was making.  
  
It seemed an interminable time before Will gently set his drink down on the table at the edge of the couch. He clasped his hands between his knees and turned his head towards Hannibal, his eyes fixed on the space of unoccupied leather between them. His body was tense, his face free of any blush or smile. Hannibal knew whatever the man had been contemplating had been decided. He set his own glass on the matching side table near him.  
  
He was faintly surprised at how much anxiety he was feeling as he waited for Will to speak.  
  
“Why are you interested in me?”  
  
The question wasn’t something entirely unexpected. Hannibal already knew Will could see far more than others, and he had reason to be suspect of those trying to get close to him. Especially someone whose profession was closely linked with those who would vie for a connection with Will that was purely for their own benefit. He was also obviously aware that his interaction with and view of the world was unique and easily misunderstood by others.  
  
No. It was not the question itself that caught Hannibal off guard, but the absolute confusion and disbelief in Will’s voice when he asked. Could this beautiful, insightful, wildly intelligent man truly be blind to his own attractiveness?  
  
So close, close enough to reach out to, close enough to touch, to pull to him and kiss and worship. But Hannibal dared not, he knew Will would bolt.  
  
What had happened between one moment and the next? They had been flirting, teasing each other only minutes ago. What had caused this shift in their dynamic.    
  
And he realized they had never been completely alone before.  
  
He must tread carefully.  
  
“Why do you think I wouldn’t be interested in you, Will? Why would you think you aren‘t someone to be interested in?”  
  
“Because, I’m - I’m me. I’m rude, I’m terrible with people. I have very little tolerance for others, and most of the time they have even less for me.” Here Will stood, agitated and pacing, his words shaped in that specific way becoming sharper with his elevated anxiety. “I obsess over cases I work. I fall into the minds of the mad, of murderers and psychopaths. I barely sleep - and when I do - I have horrible nightmares or I sleepwalk,  
I-”  
  
Hannibal stood, slowly so as not to startle the pacing man. It had his intended effect when Will stopped and turned towards him, though the look in his eyes told Hannibal he was still very likely to bolt if he didn‘t handle this correctly. He kept his hands low, by his sides as he took a small step toward Will.  
  
“Will,“ he began, careful to keep his voice matter of fact, “I am a psychiatrist,  and though I have no intention of us having a doctor and patient relationship, I would say this makes me uniquely equipped to embark on a romantic relationship with you. Things that others are unable to understand would not cause such a divide between us.” Another step. A slightly raised arm, palm up, entreating. “I would not resent what you are not, as I think you would not resent what I am. There are things that haunt my dreams from time to time. Things I have done that should haunt me and do not. I think you would not hate me nor fear me because of them.”  
  
He had reached him now, and blue eyes met his own. Some fearful thing still swam in the depths of them and Hannibal knew that of all the confessions Will had made, there was still one more.  
  
Carefully, ever so gently he linked his hands with Will’s, “What is it, _mylimasis_? What are you really trying to tell me?”  
  
Will’s eyes traveled down, looking at each of their linked hands in turn. Voice small and wavering slightly he said, “I’m…scarred.”  
  
“We all are scarred in our own-”  
  
“No!” Will interrupted, his voice sharp as he jerked his hands from Hannibal’s gentle grip. “You don’t understand,” he said as he stepped back, turning away.  
  
“Will, please-” Hannibal started, panic rising as Will pulled away from him. But his words hung in his throat as Will violently tugged up his black sweater and undershirt, exposing a large portion of his right side.  
  
The revealed expanse was mottled and marred, marked in places with the unmistakable crosshatching of skin grafts. It continued farther up Will’s body than his sweater was raised, and disappeared into the waistband of his trousers.  
  
The remaining evidence of the great violence fire could do to the human body. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those looking for the possible trigger. It's burning/burn scars. The actual burning is not described in this chapter, nor how it happened.
> 
> Hey guys! It's been a while, no? Sorry bout that. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. It's been sitting on my computer for quite a while and I finally decided to finish it up.
> 
> No hot and heavy here quite yet, but I guess this is more of a slow burn fic for me? Since the title implies a fire theme, I guess that's appropriate.
> 
> Also, 'mylimasis'' means 'beloved' or 'love' in Lithuanian. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave me questions or comments, they always make my day! 
> 
> I also have one of those tumblr things if you want to look me up. I post things occasionally.
> 
> http://romancebyfaye.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! This is my first fanfic for Hannibal, and I wanted something that was true to the characters of the show and had elements of the show but with the possibility for a happy ending. There will be angst! There will be pain (just not the season two finale kind of pain)! There will be sex! There will be a happy ending! Please feel free to leave me thoughts or suggestions!


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